


Deny or Embrace (For Worse or For Better)

by one_of_those_crushing_scenes



Category: Avengers (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616, Mockingbird (Comic)
Genre: Alley Sex, Discussions about consent and lack thereof, Exes, F/F, F/M, Lampshade Hanging, POV Multiple, Sex Between Friends, Sex Pollen, Smut, Trope Deconstruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 12:51:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16892949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_of_those_crushing_scenes/pseuds/one_of_those_crushing_scenes
Summary: While fighting a supervillain, Bobbi gets hit with a chemical compound that...you know the rest. Clint has some concerns.





	Deny or Embrace (For Worse or For Better)

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank-you to [dawittiest](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/dawittiest) for your beta work on this.
> 
> Title is from Pat Benatar's [We Belong](https://youtu.be/qxZInIyOBXk).

Clint didn’t hear the door open, but the ruckus of voices as his teammates came inside was too loud to miss. He could hear Iron Man and Tigra speaking rapidly and loudly over each other—he couldn’t quite make out the words, but it sounded urgent. He hurried over to the front hall to see what was going on, finding the two of them arguing while Bobbi closed the door behind them. She turned and saw him, and he could see from her eyes that she was distressed.

“Oh, thank God you're here,” she said, throwing herself into his arms. Alarms went off in his head, and his protective instinct flared up. Something seriously bad must have happened for her to turn to act like this. He knew she could take care of herself—she’d practically written the book on taking care of herself—but it didn’t stop him from worrying over her, exes or not.

“What happened?” he asked. She muttered something he didn't catch into his chest, and then he noticed that not everyone was there. “Where are Sam and Scott?”

“They're finishing up with the police,” Tony said, pushing his faceplate away from his face. “They'll be back soon, but we needed to get Bobbi home as quick as we could.”

“Why?” Clint asked. “What happened?” 

Bobbi took a step away from him and spoke clearly this time. “Sex pollen. I was chasing after Egghead, and he threw this stupid grenade thing at me while he ran, and... _spshhhhh_.” She made a sound that approximated a spray bottle.

“Okay. And inside the grenade was...sex pollen?” He’d never heard of it. Pollen came from plants and made you sneeze—what did that have to do with sex?

“PAG-39, officially,” Tony said. “I ran a quick diagnostic on the way back, to confirm. It’s a chemical he developed a while back that amplifies the sex drive of anyone directly exposed to it. It lasts for a few hours and gets you so worked up you can’t think straight, and then he escapes while the other guy is distracted by their bodily needs.”

Clint shuddered. “Creepy.”

“Tell me about it,” Tigra said. “Mock was able to hold it together for long enough to take him down, but then it hit her with a force. I think it's getting progressively worse.”

“It’s unbearable.” Bobbi’s voice trembled. She reached for him again, and his arm burned where her hand landed. He held himself very still, trying to wrap his mind around the situation. “Please, Clint. Tony said it’s easier if you have someone to help you through it.”

She looked at him with big, hopeful eyes. He swallowed, conflicted. Normally, he would be raring to go with that look on her face, but the context was all wrong. This had come out of nowhere, and he couldn't even tell if it was her talking, or the compound she’d been hit with. Not to mention that Tony and Greer were right there, watching the whole thing. At any other time, Clint knew, Bobbi would have been mortified at the idea of everyone seeing her like this.

And still, he couldn't stop the flash of pride he felt at the idea of being the one to “help her through it.” And to have everyone know it—oh, hell. If this was his reaction, could he really trust himself to have her best interests at heart?

As he deliberated, Bobbi crossed one foot in front of the other and started rubbing her legs together, seemingly looking for relief. Clint felt his face go hot, simultaneously turned on and embarrassed. This couldn’t possibly be what she wanted. Tigra gently put her hand on Bobbi’s shoulder, which made her freeze as she realized what she’d been doing. The pained expression on her face caused Clint to wince in sympathy. Shouldn't he be willing to do whatever it took to get that look off her face?

“All right,” Tony said. “I’m just going to get out of everyone’s hair. Oh, and make sure she stays hydrated.”

Once he was gone, Clint threaded his arm under Bobbi’s so she could lean on him. “All right, let’s get you upstairs.” She melted into him, and he was struck by how hot her skin felt, even through her costume. He put his free hand on her forehead and frowned. “You're running quite the fever there.” He exchanged a glance with Tigra. “Maybe we should get her some Tylenol.”

Bobbi shook her head. “I don't feel sick; not like that.”

“Okay.” He turned them toward the hallway. “Can you walk?”

“Yeah.” She stumbled even as she said it, catching herself on his arm, then looked up at him and blushed. Oh, God, why was he getting aroused from this? She wasn't even in control; this was so _wrong_ —

Tigra rushed over to support Bobbi's other side. “Let's do this,” she said. She shot Clint a semi-apologetic look, which made him think maybe she had an idea of what he was going through. Rubbing Bobbi's back, she gave her an encouraging smile and asked, “You with us, Mock?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Leaning against both of them, Bobbi took a few steps, and slowly the three of them made their way up the stairs to Bobbi's bedroom. He tried not to look directly at her, with her flushed cheeks and her longing glances, but it was hard to look away.

As they lowered her onto her bed, Bobbi brushed against him, and she whimpered, the sound going straight to his dick. Oh, God, he couldn’t take much more of this. Ashamed, he adjusted the front of his pants to hide his erection. Then he leaned over to Tigra and muttered, “Can I have a word in the hallway?”

Tigra nodded. She glanced at Bobbi, who had kicked off her boots and was working on the buttons of her costume, and they walked out to the hallway, closing the door behind them. 

“You okay?” she asked in a lowered voice. “I know the circumstances aren't exactly ideal.”

“Not exactly, no,” Clint agreed. “Greer, I can’t do this.”

“What?”

He glanced at the door, trying not to think of Bobbi squirming with need on the other side of it, trying not to think of the way she’d practically begged him to get her off, trying to pretend his dick wasn't currently pressing up insistently against his pants. This was more important than temporary release, than one night of pleasure. “Listen to me. She’s drugged, okay? This...sex pollen thing, it's causing her to think that she wants me, but she doesn't. Not really.” The image his mind conjured up of a certain white-clad cowboy from their past was more than enough to put his erection to rest. “Given our history...can't you see how this is something I could never, ever do?”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but there was nothing to say. They both knew that he was right. Instead, she shot a look at the door, then looked at him and sighed. “All right. You can go. I've got it from here.”

“You sure?” Clint asked, knowing that he'd made the right decision but still feeling hesitant about leaving. “If I can help in some other way...”

“Well, Tony said to make sure she stays hydrated.”

“Right. Water.” He nodded. “I'll go get some.”

—

Great. What was she going to do now? 

Greer understood where Clint was coming from, having been there all those years ago when the truth of what the Phantom Rider had done to Bobbi was revealed. The whole saga had affected Bobbi more than she’d been willing to admit, and being kicked out of the Avengers, leaving her with almost no support network so soon after the assault, had put her in a shaky place for a while. Clint hadn’t understood any of that at the time, but when Greer had gone back to the team, she’d tried her best to knock some sense into him, leading to what they’d all thought was his and Bobbi’s reconciliation (but had actually turned out to be a Skrull plot). After “Bobbi” had died, Greer had let Clint cry on her shoulder so many times, as he lamented the way he'd reacted back then, how much time he'd wasted because of his stupid pride and rules-worship. It was all a long time ago now, but he still had trauma and guilt around the whole incident, clearly. So she got it, but that didn't help much in the moment.

“Where’d he go?” Bobbi asked once she re-entered the room. She was still working on her buttons and didn’t seem to have made much progress.

Greer swallowed. “He...went to get you some water.”

Bobbi nodded. Her face was flushed, lips bright red and swollen, pupils dilated, but she was still enough herself to figure out the truth. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

“I’m sorry, honey. You’re going to be okay, all right? I promise.”

“Uh-huh.” Bobbi made an exasperated sound and threw up her hands. “I can’t get these buttons! My fingers aren’t—they won’t _go_ right!”

Greer stepped forward quickly. “I’ll help. It’s okay.”

Bobbi turned to give her access, and Greer quickly got to work on the buttons that held Bobbi’s suit together. She got them undone relatively quickly, although the fact that Bobbi gasped every time Greer put her hands on her was a bit distracting. Finally, the work was done, and Bobbi shrugged out of the outfit, leaving her in her underwear. She crawled onto the bed and curled up, shaking.

“Are you okay?” Greer asked, feeling helpless.

Bobbi squeezed her legs together, rocking back and forth as she spoke. “I need—I _need_ , Greer, you don't understand. I've never felt like this before.”

Greer sat down next to her on the bed. “Okay, listen. You're going to get through this. You have choices, okay? I can call Tony down, I’m sure he’d be happy to help, if you want. Sam and Scott should be back soon, and—it can’t hurt to try. You could try getting yourself off—”

“No—shaking too much—I don’t think I could.”

“And there’s me,” she finished. “I could get you through this, just as a favor between friends.”

Bobbi looked at her, seemingly weighing her options.

“I'm totally cool with it, if you are,” Greer added.

Bobbi nodded. “Okay.”

“Me?” 

“You.”

“Okay, then.” No problem. Sex was something that she was _good_ at. And to help her friend? Piece of cake. She settled in behind Bobbi and started to run her hands through her hair, ready to take it slow.

Bobbi looked up. “Wait.”

Greer stopped.

“I'm a little nervous about your claws.”

Greer was about to answer, but a single knock on the door interrupted. A second later, the door opened a crack, and a hand—Clint’s hand—put a six-pack of bottled water inside the room. He shut the door without saying anything.

 _Well, at least he’s good for something,_ Greer thought, then regretted it. Who was she to judge someone else’s hangups? The fact that he couldn’t detach himself emotionally from the situation didn't make him a bad person. It just meant that she was further removed from it.

Setting her mind to the task at hand, Greer made herself comfortable at the head of the bed and patted the space in front of her. “I've had claws for years,” she reminded Bobbi. “I know how to handle them.”

“Right.” Bobbi looked up, gave her a shy smile, and settled between her legs. “Wow. I never expected _this_ to happen,” she said, a shaky laugh escaping her lips.

“It’s not too late to back out,” Greer said, massaging Bobbi’s shoulders lightly.

“Why, Greer Grant Nelson, I’m going to get my feelings hurt,” Bobbi teased.

“Ha!” She drew Bobbi’s arms up, then pulled her sports bra up and over her head, tossing it onto the floor. “You know you’re hot stuff. Come on, lean back.” She coaxed Bobbi backward with hands on her waist. Bobbi shivered and buried her face in Greer's neck as she leaned into her. “Do you trust me?” 

Bobbi didn't hesitate. “Of course I trust you.” 

“Good.” She ran her hands up and down Bobbi’s sides, easing her into it. Bobbi gave an appreciative moan, and Greer could feel her starting to relax. “You with me, babe?”

“Mmm, yeah,” came the response.

“Good.” She slid her hands further up and raised Bobbi’s arms over her head, loosely holding her wrists up with one hand and placing them against the wall. The stretch caused Bobbi's back to arch and her full breasts to jut out. Greer looked at their reflection in the vanity mirror across the room, marveling at the sight of their intertwined bodies. She ran her free hand along Bobbi's midriff, watching the way Bobbi's chest rose and fell with each breath.

“Fuck, don't tease me,” Bobbi begged, shifting against her as she searched for relief.

“It's not a tease if I promise to deliver,” Greer retorted. She licked a stripe along Bobbi's collarbone to her neck, causing her friend's entire body to shiver.

“Oh, wow,” Bobbi said. “Do that again.”

Grinning, she licked up the side of her neck this time and was rewarded with a groan.

“Your tongue is amazing,” Bobbi breathed, tilting her head all the way back to give Greer better access, letting her long blond hair fall in waves over Greer’s shoulder.

Greer smiled and nipped up Bobbi’s neck with her incisors, leaving little red marks up and down the graceful line of her throat. “My tongue can do lots of other things, too.”

“Ohhhh,” Bobbi groaned. “I made a good choice.”

“Hell, yeah, you did.” She let go of Bobbi's joined wrists, murmuring, “Keep those there,” and with her newly freed hand, she pulled her in for a kiss. Her other hand started to play with Bobbi's breasts. She smoothed and pulled and pinched and teased while Bobbi squirmed in her lap and made sweet little noises against her mouth.

This was a new experience. She was aroused, to be sure—who wouldn't be, with the way Bobbi was responding to her touch? But she had no expectations of getting off tonight. It didn't seem like Bobbi was up for that, if she couldn't even masturbate successfully, and in any case, she didn't need it in quite the same way. She wasn't sure she agreed with Clint that the hormones were affecting Bobbi's judgment to the extent that he thought they were, but it was probably true that this wouldn't be happening right now without the sex pollen. Letting Bobbi reciprocate kind of seemed like it would be taking advantage of her.

Putting those thoughts to the side, Greer slid her left hand under Bobbi's leg, lifting it up and out of the way over her own knee. She used her right hand to tease Bobbi's inner thigh as the whimpers and pleas fell from her mouth like rain. 

As she reached the juncture between Bobbi's legs, she slid her hand into her underwear and started to leisurely stroke the soaked area around Bobbi's pussy. Bobbi squirmed, and, finally having mercy on her, Greer helped pull the the panties down her legs. She threw the garment on top of Bobbi's discarded bra, and Bobbi settled deeper into her arms. 

Watching carefully for Bobbi's reaction, Greer started to play up and down Bobbi's slit as she held her legs splayed wide. Bobbi let out little gasps of pleasure as Greer's fingers slipped easily through her wet folds. She found Bobbi’s clit and pressed against it as she continued rubbing in tight circles.

“That’s so good,” Bobbi said, rolling her hips to meet Greer’s fingers.

“Yeah?” Greer pressed another kiss to her shoulder. One thing she especially liked about having sex with women was figuring out their preferences and how they both aligned with and differed from hers.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

She stuck to her task, following Bobbi's cues, and it wasn't long before her whimpers turned to shaken moans. Bobbi's entire body started to tremble, and she cried out with each pulse against Greer's fingers. Greer kept her hand in place, working her through it.

When the tremors stopped, Bobbi’s arms slid down to her sides and she pushed herself up, turning to face Greer. “That was incredible,” she said.

She kissed Bobbi on the nose. “Yeah, it was. You up for more? Tony said that if we can manage to get the orgasms one right after the other, really close together, it can help get it out of your system faster.”

“I'm definitely ready for more.” Bobbi's eyes sparkled. “You still haven't shown me everything you can do with that tongue.”

“Everything, huh?” Greer grinned. “All right, you asked for it. Lie down on your back and get comfortable, because you're going to be there a while.”

—

Clint woke up more than once during the night due to uncomfortable dreams and panicked thoughts. He had to fight the urge to go down the hallway and check on Bobbi, forcing himself to trust that Tigra would have called him if things had gotten really bad. It was just hormones, right? Happened to everyone. She’d probably spent a few hours flicking the ol’ bean before tiring herself out. Not that it was any of his business. Not that it was in any way appropriate for him to be imagining her naked in bed with her sheets twisted around her ankles and her hand between her legs, back raised in a perfect arch...thinking about him, perhaps?

Oh, for fuck's sake. What in the hell was wrong with him? Letting out a grunt of frustration, Clint threw the covers back and went to take another cold shower. 

The next time he woke up, the sun was shining, so he made his way down to the kitchen, where Tony, Sam, and Scott were sitting around the table. Clint headed to the bag of fresh bagels sitting on the counter, and the chatter died down around him.

“Is Bobbi feeling better?” Sam asked.

He really hoped so. “I’m the wrong person to ask,” Clint admitted, spreading cream cheese on his bagel and bringing it to the table. “I haven’t seen her since last night. But I passed by her room on the way down, and it was quiet inside, so I guess she managed to fall asleep.”

Tony gave him an odd look. “What do you mean, you’re the wrong person to ask?”

“I didn't...you know.”

“You left her to suffer through it on her own?” Tony asked.

“Well, Tigra was with her,” he pointed out. “I couldn’t...given the tricky...you know...consent...issues involved, I didn’t think it was right for me to...” Seeing that nothing he said changed the unimpressed expression on Tony’s face, he gave up. “Okay, what?”

“Nothing, just...” Tony shook his head. “Poor Bobbi.”

Clint was starting to get annoyed. “You're acting as if she doesn't have a perfectly good right hand. And now that I heard myself say that out loud, I'm realizing how completely inappropriate this whole conversation is.”

“I know it's inappropriate, that's the reality of the situation,” Tony replied. “I should have told you this last night before it was too late, but I was actually trying _not_ to be inappropriate, and I guess that's my bad. See, I was exposed to it once. I was alone, and I tried to relieve it by myself, but it doesn't just make you horny—I was so weak and shaky that my hands just weren't up for the job. I couldn't get a good grip or a good rhythm—”

Clint coughed out a piece of his bagel, which flew across the table and bounced off Tony's shirt.

Sam slapped him on the back, laughing. “Oh, Tony. Never change.”

Tony shrugged. “Last night I undershared, so now I’m oversharing to balance it out. Believe me, sex pollen isn’t the joke it sounds like. I couldn't think about anything else, couldn't sleep it away, couldn't do a thing to help myself. Jarvis found me, four hours later, trying to hump my wardrobe, in tears. It was not a pretty sight.”

Mental image of Tony trying to hump a piece of furniture aside, the lecture was working, and Clint was starting to second-guess his decision from the night before. He'd been so sure he was doing the right thing, forgoing short-term physical pleasure for what he thought would be best for her mental health. But, he reminded himself, he didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to knowing what was best for his ex-wife's mental health.

Still...

“But you lived through it,” he argued. “You had a few tough hours, and then it ended.”

“I lived through the chicken pox, too,” Tony said. “That doesn't mean I recommend it, not when there are alternatives.”

“Come on, give the guy a break,” Scott cut in. “Sleeping with someone you used to be married to isn't the same thing as getting a shot and then forgetting all about it.” He nodded at Clint, reminding him that he wasn't the only divorcé in the room. Although from what he knew about Scott and his ex, it wasn't exactly a comparable situation. Peggy had gotten remarried years ago, and as far as Clint knew, she and Scott only kept in touch for their daughter's sake. Still, you never knew what was in someone's heart.

—

Bobbi woke up fully refreshed and well-rested. She also had a soft, furry body spooning her, which felt heavenly. As she shifted, Tigra let out a grunt.

“You never told me you made such a good naked snuggling buddy,” Bobbi said.

“Mmm. I thought it was obvious.” Tigra took away the arm that had been draped over Bobbi's midsection, stretching it over her head. “How do you feel?” 

“So much better. Thank you.”

“Good. You had me a little worried there for a minute.”

“Nah, I’m good.” She sat up, pulling up the sheet for modesty’s sake. With the chemical out of her system, she was back to her normal self, and her normal self was less into casual nudity. “A little sore, but I slept better last night than I have in ages.” She laughed, feeling unexpectedly light and carefree. “I feel like I should repay the favor.”

“You’re sweet,” Greer said. “But I know you’re not a friends-with-benefits person, and, see, there’s this weird kink that I have about only having sex with people who are super into it, so...”

Bobbi laughed. “Damn. You don't hold back.”

Greer got up and started to pick out clothing from her dresser. “You don’t owe me anything, Bobbi. I was happy to help.”

“You’re the best friend a girl could have.” Still, she wanted to do something tangible to express her gratitude. Greer had really gone above and beyond, and a verbal thank-you didn’t feel sufficient. “Maybe I can set you up with someone?”

Greer smirked over her shoulder. “My love life isn’t hurting for partners. How about you buy me dinner?”

“After you already put out?”

“Hilarious.” Greer rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

“Dinner sounds perfect,” Bobbi said.

They showered and dressed, then started making their way downstairs for breakfast. On their way to the common area, Bobbi could hear the muffled voices of the rest of the team, and the oxytocin-induced high she’d woken up with started to fade. Everyone in that room knew about the state she’d been in last night, and despite the fact that it had just been a normal biochemical reaction that could have happened to anyone, it was still pretty damn embarrassing.

Just as they were about to walk into the kitchen, Bobbi heard Clint’s voice. She couldn’t make out the words, but just the sound of his voice had her flashing back to the night before. Oh, God. She’d actually rubbed herself against him. She’d put him on the spot, pressured him in front of witnesses to sleep with her...

Mortified, she froze in place. Greer paused and gave her a concerned look, and Bobbi blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. “I forgot my sweater upstairs.”

It didn’t mean anything—the kitchen wasn’t even cold—but it was something, some meaningless combination of words that meant she didn’t have to go into that room and face her ex-husband whom she’d publicly accosted.

—

Clint’s heart sank as he heard Bobbi’s retreat. Tony was right, then—in trying to do the right thing, all he’d accomplished was putting his rigid, abstract morals before her actual needs. _Again_.

“Good morning,” Greer said cheerfully, heading toward the coffee. Clint waited for her to chew him out the way Tony had, but she didn’t say anything, pouring a small amount of coffee into her cup and filling the rest with milk and cream.

_Leave it, Barton._

He looked at Tony, who drew a finger across his throat in warning.

Greer turned around and leaned against the counter, taking a sip of that coffee-tinged abomination Sam had nicknamed ‘La Croix-ffee.’ “Mmm, coffee’s great this morning. Who should I thank?”

Clint pressed his lips together. _Don’t do it, Hawkeye._

“Is she okay?” he blurted out.

Greer looked at him nonchalantly. “Who, Bobbi? Yeah, she’s fine.”

Clint couldn’t stop himself. “Tony said—”

Tony groaned. “Really, Hawkeye? You had to drag my name into this?”

Clint ignored him. “—that it can be really...bad...if you don’t have someone to help you through it. And I didn’t realize—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Greer said, cutting him off with a shrug. After a few seconds, she added, “She did.”

It took him longer than it should have to put two and two together and realize that she meant _her_. Of course, he should have known. Greer wasn’t one to be prudish—it made complete sense that she would have stepped up.

“I think you broke Tony,” Sam pointed out. Clint looked up and saw Tony staring wide-eyed at Greer, as if he was seeing her for the first time.

Seeing that everyone’s eyes were on him, Tony cleared his throat. “Uh. Yeah. I mean, no. Greer, you know that I respect both you and, um, Mockingbird very much as valued colleagues and friends.”

Greer finished her drink and set her cup down on the counter. Smirking, she walked over to Tony and chucked him under the chin, watching his face turn red. “Oh, yes, Tony. I do know that.”

—

A few days later, Sam opened a Coke and Bobbi visibly flinched at the sound of carbon dioxide rushing out the can. Everyone looked at her, and she froze, realizing she’d just had a startle response for the most ridiculous reason in the world.

For a few seconds, no one spoke.

It was Scott who broke the tension. “Woo!” he said, holding his nose and waving the air in front of him. “My bad, sorry guys.”

Greer batted the back of his head lightly, and Tony groaned, but Bobbi couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. Scott winked at her, and the conversation went back to normal.

—

“Don’t hit him!” Tony called. “That’ll just—”

Scott hit him.

“—make him bigger,” Tony finished in a flat voice, as they watched the Growing Man live up to his name.

He loomed over the team, casting a shadow halfway down the block. Bobbi looked up, using her hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

“Can I scratch him?” Tigra asked.

“We need a strategy,” Tony said. “He can usually be taken out from inside out—”

“Does he have any openings or vents or something?” Bobbi asked. “Maybe Scott can shrink down and—”

“Speakers on the side of his neck,” Tony said. “But I don’t know if Scott can get that small safely.”

“What if we get _him_ —” Bobbi indicated the size-changing robot in front of them, “—bigger?”

Tony nodded. “That would enlarge the holes.” He turned the the rest of the team and raised his voice. “New plan, everyone—hit him with everything you’ve got! Ant-Man, let’s talk.”

“It’s nice facing an enemy where we can literally shout out our strategy right in front of him and it doesn’t make a difference,” Sam deadpanned.

“Yeah, deadly robots _without_ advanced artificial intelligence are a nice break,” Tigra agreed.

The team started lining up, preparing to attack the Growing Man until he was large enough for Scott to fly inside, arranging themselves in a circular formation to prevent him from causing property damage to their surroundings in the meantime. “Too bad you never got around to inventing that boxing glove arrow you were always talking about,” Bobbi murmured to Clint as they crossed paths. “That would have been perfect to unleash now.”

He snorted and shook his head, and their gazes caught. The eye contact was a little too much, and all of a sudden the memories of the way she’d thrown herself at him the other night came rushing back, filling her with shame. She gave him a weak smile and looked away.

—

Greer leaned back in her seat, looking around the fancy restaurant Bobbi had chosen for them. Light jazz played in the background as the patrons enjoyed their meals and made hushed conversation. She nodded approvingly and sipped her wine. “You really know how to treat a girl,” she said.

“I keep meaning to go here,” Bobbi admitted, “but I haven’t had a good excuse until now.”

“There's no better excuse than as a thank-you to your best friend for making you pass out from orgasm-induced fatigue,” Greer said, right as the waiter walked up with their food. Bobbi covered her mouth with her hand to prevent herself from laughing out loud, but he was polite enough to pretend he hadn’t heard a thing.

Once they were left alone, Tigra cut into her steak, letting out an appreciative purr at the dark red color. “So nice to find a place that doesn’t overcook their steaks.”

“I think the four ‘extras’ you put before ‘rare’ probably helped.”

“Yeah, but most places are so worried about lawsuits that they don’t listen.”

Bobbi tried her own steak. It was delicious—juicy, tender, and full of flavor. “Mmm. It's nice to get out of the house.”

Greer gave her a knowing look. “Still haven’t talked with Clint yet, huh?”

Bobbi shook her head. “I know, I need to. I can feel it, like, physically messing up the team vibe. But I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know what to say to him.”

“Screw the team vibe. You guys are my friends. I just want to see you happy. And asking for what you want is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“If only I’d stopped at asking,” Bobbi said with a regretful sigh.

“Just talk to him. You might be surprised at what you find out.”

Bobbi made a noncommittal sound. She turned back to her food and continued eating, trying not to think about it. 

“Never mind,” Greer said. “Let's talk about something else. The Bears are in town next week. Are you coming with me to the game?”

Relieved, Bobbi cracked a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

When dinner was over, Greer had the idea to get milkshakes for dessert, so they pulled up to a Cold Stone on the way home.

“I think I'm going to get plain cream,” Greer said as they walked in. She took a look around and frowned. “Oh, I don't like the look of this line. And I need to use the bathroom. Come with me?”

There was a single-occupancy bathroom at the end of a hallway in the back of the store. Bobbi was surprised to see Clint hanging out opposite the bathroom door, looking like he was waiting for someone. He looked up when they approached and a surprised look crossed his face.

“Hey,” Bobbi said in greeting. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m waiting for Tony—” Clint started, and then a few things happened at once. The bathroom door flew open, and Tony pulled Clint inside at the same time that Greer shoved her in, the two of them shutting the door behind them so quickly that Bobbi didn’t even have time to register what was happening until she heard the sound of a key turning in a lock.

“ _Hey_!” Clint shouted, outraged, from next to her. He pounded on the door. “What the hell?”

“Sorry not sorry!” Greer called from the other side.

Bobbi gritted her teeth. “This isn't funny; let us out!”

“You two are in time out until you learn how to get along,” came Tony's muffled voice.

“Don't you usually _separate_ kids when they're in time out?” Greer asked, her voice sounding a little bit farther away than it had before.

They didn't hear Tony's response, but Bobbi could make out the sounds of the footsteps walking away.

She turned to Clint. “I can’t believe them. What were you two even doing here?”

“Tony wanted to get ice cream. I said okay.” He shrugged. “Seemed legitimate at the time.”

“Yeah, same here,” she said. “Our friends are filthy liars. I bet they’re not even getting ice cream now.” She glared at the door. “What kind of bathroom uses a key lock? That's got to violate some safety standard or something.”

He sighed. “Yeah. Well. If we shout, I’m sure one of the workers would come and rescue us.”

“Never mind that. I can get it open.” Bobbi fished a torsion wrench out of her pocket and crouched down.

“Reminds me of our first date,” Clint joked.

“I've graduated from hairpins.” Trying to ignore the reminder of an evening that had definitely not been a date at the time but had ended up being a cherished memory anyway, she fiddled with the lock, searching for the pins. “These are sturdier.”

He leaned over to watch, and his proximity did things to her insides. Scolding herself, Bobbi tried to remember that she was a fully-grown woman, and when that didn't help, she tried to recall the image of Clint snoring and drooling in his sleep. But then he shifted over and she could feel his warm breath hitting the back of her neck, making the hairs stand up. In a good way.

She swallowed. “Hey, um—I kinda need some more room to work here.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry.” He backed off, and her head cleared.

A minute later, Bobbi was reasonably sure she'd gotten the lock open. She stood up and wiped her hands on her jeans before checking the doorknob. It turned easily. Sure enough, the key was on the floor right outside the door. 

“Those sons of bitches,” she muttered, handing the key to Clint so he could put it back in its place.

They went out to the parking lot, but Tony and Greer were long gone.

“Wonderful,” Clint said. “He was my ride.”

Bobbi rubbed her forehead. “Yeah, Greer was mine.”

“I guess we're walking home.”

The first few minutes of the way were silent, with Bobbi struggling to come up with a mundane topic of conversation. Her mind was blanking, and after a while, she had to admit that she was being ridiculous. This was _Clint_. She’d used to be married to him, for heaven’s sakes. Once, she’d been comfortable sitting bottomless on the toilet while he shaved his face a few feet away. There was no reason to be so afraid of a frank conversation now. Gathering her resolve, she turned to him and said, “I guess we might as well talk about it.”

“I was thinking we'd use this time to plan our revenge.”

“Oh.”

“I'm kidding, you're right, we should talk.”

She turned to face him. It was hard to meet his eyes, but she forced herself to do it. If she wanted to make things right, she’d need to let her guard down. Like, way down.

Bobbi took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

She laughed in embarrassment. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

He shrugged. “I mean, I let you down. You needed—well, you needed something, and I—”

“No, I never should have put you in that situation,” she admitted. “It wasn’t fair to you. I shouldn’t have—”

“You couldn’t control it.”

“No, I could,” she admitted. “I didn’t have to ask for you; I just took it for granted that—God, this is so embarrassing.” She put her head in her hands.

She couldn’t see his reaction, but she heard the taken-aback tone of his voice. “What?”

Bobbi could feel her face burning. Now that it was time to say it out loud, her mouth wouldn’t form the words. Who was she kidding? This kind of vulnerability was so much harder than using the toilet in front of someone.

“Took what for granted, Bobbi?” he asked quietly.

She looked up and saw his face, the same face of the man she’d proposed marriage to all those years ago after knowing him for barely a week. The face of the man who’d loved her once, who’d vowed to share his life with her, who’d moved to the other side of the country with her to found a team of superheroes, who’d cried tears of joy when she’d told him that she was pregnant, who’d met her as she’d stepped off that Skrull spaceship and held her tight and looked at her like she was a miracle.

Taking a deep breath, she admitted, “I took it for granted that you would want to. It wasn’t my right to do that, and you shouldn’t feel guilty for saying no. If anything I said caused you to feel like you were obligated or...or remiss or something, I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

“Wait.” He cut her off with a hand in the air. “Wait. Bobbi. You don't know why I said no?”

“It's none of my business—”

He gave a puff of laughter, sounding almost...relieved? “Of course it's your business.” She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, he continued, “I said no because I thought you couldn't consent!”

That stopped her in her tracks. She stared at him in astonishment as he continued,“I thought that it would be like sleeping with you while you were drunk or under a spell.”

She blinked. “Or a potion,” she said slowly, finally grasping the truth of the matter. “You were thinking of the Phantom Rider.”

He nodded, unblinking as he held her gaze under the street lamp.

“You were thinking of _me_ ,” she continued.

“I'm always thinking of you, Birdie,” he said, his face glowing with affection. “I know I do a bad job of showing it, but I swear...”

She tried to respond, but her throat was stuck, the emotions running too high for her to find the words. Instead, she took his hand with both of hers and squeezed it. She was starting to find that all her fear from the past week was gone; the walls she’d put up, dissolved. “You know I never stopped loving you, right?”

He laughed nervously. “Well, I mean, I knew you _cared_...”

Bobbi’s mouth dropped. “You jerk! How could you not have known?”

“Uh, you never exactly said anything, did you?”

She’d thought her actions had spoken for her—the way she stuck around in his life despite it all, checking in on him to make sure he was okay, popping in every once in a while to save his life. The fact that she hadn’t managed to make any relationships after him last more than a few months, even though both attempts had been with men who were perfectly nice but just weren’t _him_. 

“Well, I’m saying something now. I know that the timing wasn’t right before and both of us were going through stuff that was just...compounding each other's problems, but it’s been a few years, and my feelings for you haven’t changed.” She took a deep breath. “Do you think that after all this time...?”

“Hey,” he said, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Didn’t I make a promise to you once that we’d find each other again?”

She remembered—of course she did—but they'd been through so much as individuals since then. She hadn't dared to hope that he still felt that way.

“I never stopped loving you either,” he said, his voice impossibly soft. “How could I?”

“Oh,” she heard herself say. 

“Yeah.”

She slipped her hand into his. This felt...momentous. The first time they'd gotten together had been on the spur of the moment, and all of their on/off periods back in the day had felt tentative, like they were trying to force themselves to be happy together without dealing with the underlying issue that had driven them apart. But now...now they were older and wiser, and had had plenty of time to reflect on everything that had come between them. This...this was a promise.

Clint chuckled from next to her, breaking her train of thought. “I can't believe that you and Greer had sex.”

Well, that was one way to bring her down to Earth. “ _That's_ what you're thinking about right now?” 

“No, I mean, hear me out. If the sex pollen doesn't make you attracted to people you weren't attracted to before, does that mean that you wanted to sleep with her even before?”

She considered the question. “Well, I'm attracted to plenty of people, and I don't sleep with most of them. But given the situation and the options at hand—”

“Heh. At _hand_.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes at the weak pun. As much as she loved him, he did have the sense of humor of a fourteen-year-old. “My point is...wait, what was my point?”

“That you had control over your mental...” He snapped his fingers, trying to remember the word.

“Faculties,” she filled in. “Right. It was just, like...a physical craving, but, like, cranked up to 200.”

“I see.” He hesitated for a second, then asked, “Would you have regretted it the next morning? If I'd said yes?”

If he'd said yes. What a night that would have been. Not that she had any complaints about the way that Greer had spoiled her. But the thought of putting herself in Clint's care, letting him dedicate himself to getting her off as many times as he could in the span of a few hours...he was very persistent when he set his mind to a task.

“Bobbi?” 

She snapped back to the present. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who could disrupt a serious conversation with lewd thoughts. “Sorry. Just, uh, picturing it in my head.”

“ _Bobbi_.”

“I know, I know. I...it's hard to know. It could have gone either way. It's probably not the _best_ way to get back together. But it depends.” She looked at him and added, “It means a lot that you said no, knowing why you did.” She kissed him on the cheek, then moved her head back a fraction of an inch so that they were face to face. He looked at her, his eyes full of warmth, and the whole world stood still for a moment. It was just the two of them, inching closer and closer until finally, their lips touched, and they threw their arms around each other, their bodies pressed so close together it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

When they pulled back, he was panting. “God, we need to get home right this minute.”

Her body definitely agreed. “We could always get a cab.” Then she noticed what seemed to be a deserted alleyway up ahead. “Or...” Bobbi raised an eyebrow suggestively.

“Here?”

“It wouldn't be the first time.” Once upon a time, they’d been young and adventurous and had made a habit of taking advantage of the multiple hidden alcoves around their beach compound.

He looked around to make sure that no one was watching, and they ducked in. It was perfect—part of the building jutted out, with extra space behind it that would hide them from any passersby, and if they moved behind the dumpster, there would be no windows in their line of sight. Bobbi pulled him over to to the shadows. “Come on.”

She couldn’t wait any longer. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close and kissed him. He reciprocated eagerly, setting his hands on her hips and backing her up against the wall, grinding into her with his pelvis.

She groaned into his mouth. God, this was good. So much better now that her head was clear. Tugging on his lower lip with her teeth, she managed to draw a gasp out of him. She bit down gently, knowing he liked it when she marked him, then licked at the spot to soothe it. She could feel how hard he was beneath his clothing, and the thought that it was all for her made her giddy.

He slid his hand up her side and cupped her breast over her shirt, running his thumb over her nipple until it hardened. “Anyone could walk into this alleyway and see us,” he said, voice rough.

“Yeah.” She grinned mischievously. “Guess we’d better make this quick, then.”

Clint picked up one of her legs and hooked it around his waist, fitting their bodies together just so. He rolled his hips into her and sparks of pleasure shot through her body. “Wanna take my time with you,” he rasped into her neck.

She tangled her hand in his hair and tilted her head back, giving him better access to her neck. “Later. We have all the time in the world.”

“Yeah.” He laughed, delighted. She let out a hiss as he pinched her nipple through her bra. “God, you're amazing.”

She felt herself blushing at the compliment, which was funny considering what they were up to. “You're not bad yourself, Sport.”

She could feel him smile against her collarbone. “Can you come like this?” he asked, his breath tickling the more sensitive parts of her neck. “Through all this clothing?” 

“Let’s see.”

She couldn’t get a good rhythm with her hips, not at this angle, so she used the wall for leverage, spinning them around so that he was against the wall. This way, she could set the pace. She pulled him back by his hair and kissed him more deeply as she ground against him, feeling herself getting wetter and wetter as the sensation built inside of her.

“There you go,” Clint murmured into her ear. He’d stilled his hips, having gotten the hint, letting her take control. She looped one leg over his arm, and he hiked it even higher, making the pleasure even more acute. “Come on, beautiful, take what you need.” He rolled her nipple between his fingers and took her mouth with his as her pussy started clamping down on itself, spreading relief through her body. She moaned freely, knowing that the sounds would be muffled by his kiss.

As she finished, she collapsed against his chest, tucking her head into the crook of his neck and panting heavily against his skin. Her leg slid down his body until she was finally standing upright, and then she pulled her head back to examine his face. He looked a wreck, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen and parted.

As they stared at each other, a grin spread slowly over his face. “Hope they didn’t hear you from the street,” he said.

She laughed breathlessly and set a hand on the button of his jeans. “Yeah,” she said, flicking the button open and going for the zipper. “I’d hate for anyone to walk up and interrupt us now.”

She fit her hand under the elastic waistband of his underwear and watched the smug look slide off his face as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. Running her thumb up the sensitive underside, watching his face to gage his reaction. He let his head fall back against the wall, angling his hips toward her, and groaned softly.

“Mmmm, you like this?” she whispered, glancing both ways quickly to make sure they still had a reasonable amount of privacy. “Should I keep going?”

His eyes fluttered shut as he rocked against her hand. “God, Bobbi. That feels so good.”

She circled his cock with her fingers and started to stroke him. The noise he made called up another gush of liquid between her legs—they really needed to find their way to a bed by the end of this evening. They had _years_ to make up for, and she was going to take full advantage. But in the meantime...

She kissed him fiercely as she worked him over with her hand. His breathing was starting to come faster, and she decided to add a little bit of dirty talk to really get him going.

“You're close, baby, aren't you?” she asked in a husky voice. “Gonna come nicely for me? Right out here on the street?” She batted her eyelashes at him. “But I don’t have any tissues with me. Should we mess up your pants? Walk back into the house afterward, say hi to everyone, your underwear still sticky with come?”

His eyes glazed over, and she lowered his jeans a fraction so that she could work the elastic band of his underwear down over his length, giving her a little more room to work. “Or maybe I should let you ruin my shirt,” she continued. The sound he made indicated that he liked that idea, so she kept talking. “It's a new shirt. Just bought it last week. It'd be _such_ a shame if you blew a load all over it and marked it all up.”

His hips pumped into her hand faster and faster. “Ahh, _yes_. Bobbi, fuck!”

At the last second, she dropped to her knees. After all, it _was_ a new shirt. Secure in the knowledge that she was well-hidden by the dumpster, Bobbi gathered spit to get her mouth nice and wet, then took his cock into her mouth. She relaxed her jaw to take him deeper and started to move.

Hands fisted in the opening of his jeans, Bobbi worked him back and forth, noting the way he twitched against her tongue. She could feel his fingers grazing the ends of her hair, settling on her shoulders, and he moaned her name again.

His legs tensed up, a clear signal that he was getting close to the edge. She kept at it, sliding one of her hands around the back of his thigh and pulling him in even closer.

He choked out her name as he came, flooding her throat with his release. She swallowed the spurts as fast as she could, but it seemed to go on forever. Finally, he let out one last groan, and the pulsing stopped.

Clint held out his hand to her. She took it and pulled herself up, standing so close to him that she could smell the scent of his skin. He looked at her as if nothing else in the universe existed, and it felt like there was magic running through her veins.

“Hey,” she whispered, cupping his cheek with her hand.

He grinned. “Hey.”

“Feeling any better?”

“Are you kidding, Birdie? Nobody has ever felt better than I do right now.”

“Big words,” Bobbi teased. She held out her arm. “Ready to go back?”

He slipped his arm into hers and responded, “I'm ready to go forward.”

She laughed and shook her head. “You're so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” she admitted. “So, anyway, you were saying something about revenge?” 

“Oh, are we still doing that?” 

“We are absolutely still doing that.”

He laughed. “Well, they locked us in a room that was easy to get out of. So we one-up them. I happen to have a close personal friend who's an interdimensional teleporter. You've heard of America Chavez?”

—


End file.
